


Cry Wolf

by Rhanon_Brodie (Glass_Jacket)



Category: Arctic Monkeys
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Mention of blood, Slash, Tumblr Prompt, bottom!jamie, but jamie's unsure, dub con, i dunno, jamex, mostly feels, of the bitter kind, top!Alex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 13:08:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4306305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glass_Jacket/pseuds/Rhanon_Brodie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Give Alex an inch, it seemed, and he'd take a mile.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cry Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> All recognizable elements herein are the property of their respective owners. The remaining content is mine.
> 
> Originally posted on tumblr; I've since deleted my old account and started anew (still @kittykillswitch if you want to come by and say hi), but I decided to post it here, too, because I like having all of my work together. And some people don't have tumblr, and I don't blame you for that :) Anyway, brbie wanted Jamex with a twist - top!Alex. These things never come out the way I plan. I had heat exhaustion when I wrote this, so my mind was a little tender at best.

_“This is what I want, Jameh. Joost like this - let me have it, yeah?”_

Despite the heat of the water roaring down from the shower head, Jamie shudders. His fingers press against the tile, hooking the seams as he tries to cling to some sense of normalcy.

_“Don’t fight it - you told me tha’ once, remember? Don’t fight it, James, it hurts more when you fight it.”_

A burning, roiling sensation starts in the very depths of Jamie’s guts - perhaps lower, in that space between his hips - and it churns upwards, rippling his skin and his veins, and he shivers again. The dark humor in Alex’s voice had not been lost on Jamie, and he wonders if perhaps if he’d have spoken up, been more vocal about the whole thing, it wouldn’t have gotten out of hand so quickly.

Give Alex an inch, it seemed, and he’d take a mile.

The shower door slides open and Jamie lifts his head, as if it would be anyone but Alex on the other side. Alex surveys Jamie’s slumped frame, hands braced on the wall, water streaming down his face, falling from the ends of his hair, feet spread, while the water swirling about them turns a soft, bruised pink.

“Jameh?”

Jamie never thought he’d stiffen at the sound of Alex’s voice, and even with its sleepy undertones, Jamie is on high alert, hoping that whatever had been coursing through Alex’s veins has been spent. He certainly feels like it has been.

_“There’s me Sugar Cookie, eh, lookit that, fook, you’re all filled up wiv nowhere to go but right here.”_

The echo of the slap that followed rouses Jamie and he shakes water from his face, even as his thigh burns from where Alex’s hand had landed. He turns his wide eyes to Alex and fights the urge to cower. 

Alex isn’t exactly a tall man, nor is he broad, but he’s commanding, and it’s frayed the edge of Jamie’s conscience. 

“M’fine,” Jamie rasps, pushing off the wall and reaching for the taps to shut off the water.

“You’re almost as bad as lyin’ as I am,” Alex scoffs, flicking his hair from his eyes. “Move over, aye? I’ll scrub your back.”

Jamie nods, ignores the tightening in his chest at the thought of Alex laying hands on him again so soon after...after. His ears ring with the memory of Alex’s exuberant shouts, the pleasured sound of his pride as Jamie took Alex’s cock without so much as batting an eyelash.

On the outside, Jamie hid it very well.

Inside, he’d been screaming.

He hadn’t been ready - physically, perhaps he had been; but even with all the time and care that Alex took, Jamie had still bled. 

But he hadn’t said, _“No.”_

He hadn’t said, _“Stop.”_

Physically, indeed, there was nothing to deter Alex - Jamie’s cock still raged, still came gloriously as Alex pounded into the older man, much to Jamie’s shame and confusion. Every pert moan that Jamie emitted, every staggering gasp, and whine and whimper, had been precursor to his emotional rejection of the situation. _Not like this_ , he had pleaded in his mind. _Please, Alex, not like this._

Still, Jamie said nothing. Stupidly, he thought he’d be fine; that if Alex could take it and dish it out, then so could Jamie. It became ice cold and crystal clear that this wasn’t the case. Alex may have been a switch, but that didn’t mean Jamie was wired in the same way.

_“Joost like me, eh, Jameh? Able to take it any way you can get it. You’re scorchin’ me, babeh, burnin’ me up right quick and proper like. You feel fookin’ incredible.”_

Even now, though, Jamie feels like utter shite, and his skin crawls where Alex touches his shoulder to hold himself steady as he steps behind him. Not being able to see Alex makes Jamie’s mouth turn bitter, and fill with the salt and spit that comes with the onset of vomiting. _This isn’t supposed to happen_ , Jamie thinks, heart breaking, legs shaking. _I’m not supposed to feel like this with Alex_.

Alex slides his other hand around Jamie’s hip, and Jamie feels himself being pulled back, feet sliding apart even as his eyes slam shut and he chews his lip. He doesn’t think he can handle a second round, and he manages to choke out Alex’s name, but beyond that, he’s silent, save for the gasp when Alex’s fingers trace down between Jamie’s thighs.

“Ready for a bit more, eh?” Alex presses his fingers harder against Jamie, and lets his lips glance off the wet skin on Jamie’s shoulder. 

When he feels Alex’s teeth scrape along his skin, Jamie shudders, and heaves a moan. He’s torn where Alex touches him, and twisted inside out - arousal mixes with anguish, desire entangles with disgust, and Jamie’s mouth goes dry as his cock stiffens, and pain burns the marrow of his bones. He hates Alex in this moment, and hates himself even more: how could he have let this...this _thing_ happen? He’s terrified to give it a name, to sound it out, to cry for it and make it _real_.

“Went a bit wild that last round, eh?” Alex’s voice is a whisper, but it corrodes Jamie’s nerves like it’s 320-grit sandpaper: fine, but abrasive. “Did I ‘urt you, Cookeh?” Alex barely murmurs.

Jamie figures it’s rhetorical, that it doesn’t matter his answer - what Alex wants, Alex gets, even if he has to hurt the ones he loves along the way. Besides, that shadowed streak of humor is back in Alex’s voice, hooking Jamie’s senses as Alex’s fingers search and pry and scissor. Jamie whimpers and bites his own bicep as he hangs his head. 

He wonders if the pillow on the bed is still damp with his tears.

There’s a flurry of movement behind Jamie, hands and hips, and Alex’s sharp angles and firm muscles come away from where they’ve been pressed to Jamie’s back. The hand between Jamie’s thighs moves round to his ass, fingers digging into the soft globes of flesh and prying them open, as the scorching tip of Alex’s cock makes itself known on the tender button of Jamie’s arse. His body flexes involuntarily, and, as if surrendering, he relaxes, subconsciously aware that it’s better if he doesn’t fight it, if he doesn’t do anything at all but take it.

Isn’t that what Alex had said?

_“Take it, Jameh. Take it like a good boy, yeah? Feel that? That’s me cock splittin’ you open. I’ll put you back together, babeh, don’t worry. Shhh. It’s good. It’s real good.”_

Jamie’s own harsh cry overrides the violent tremor of Alex’s voice still haunting him, and Alex takes it as a signal to proceed. He doesn’t do courtesy, it seems; that’s Jamie’s forte. Alex is greedy, is swagger, is cock and bull, no nonsense.

Besides, if Jamie _really_ didn’t want it, he’d say something, wouldn’t he?


End file.
